


Hum Hallelujah

by Lundy



Category: Fall Out Boy, Pete Wentz - Fandom, Peterick - Fandom, Soul Punk - Fandom, patrick stump - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lundy/pseuds/Lundy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt "Imagine the members of your ship quietly singing Leonard Cohen's 'Hallelujah' together."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hum Hallelujah

Patrick struggled to put the phone back in its dock after Bob had hung up. His breathing was heavy and his hands were trembling. He should have seen this coming. Patrick looked around his dark Chicago apartment, eyes frantic as he looked for his car keys. He looked for moment, then shook his head. He would just take a cab. Patrick jogged out of his apartment, not even stopping to grab a jacket even though the November wind was biting. He waited at the elevator for a moment, but lost patience and ran down the four flights of stairs to the ground level of his apartment building. Cars sped by. Patrick raised his hand, and after a few moments a taxi pulled over. Patrick climbed in. The driver turned back.   
“Where to?”   
“Memorial Hospital please. Fast as you can.”   
The driver nodded and started the meter.   
Patrick couldn’t hold still as they drove the two miles to the hospital. He fidgeted with his cell phone and tapped his leg as the radio droned on behind him. Time seemed to be going at half speed. Patrick’s stomach clenched at every red light, imagining terrible things happening in his absence.   
After what seemed like an eternity, the vehicle pulled up to the front doors of the hospital. Patrick paid the driver and darted into the doors. It was relatively quiet, with only a few nervous and otherwise uncomfortable people lingering in the waiting room. Patrick walked up to the reception desk where a middle aged woman was writing meticulously on a chart. She looked up at him and motioned for him to sit on the tired looking chair before her.   
“What seems to be the problem? Do you need to check in for an examination?”   
“No-I-I’m looking to visit someone. Wentz. Pete. I mean Peter. He’s my-he’s my friend and I got a call saying he had come in here about half an hour ago. I want to see him.”   
The woman nodded and looked at a list on her right.   
“I think he’s still in here, but it looks like they’re going to move him upstairs in a little while. You can go back there now.”   
Patrick stood up from the chair in front of the women’s desk and walked through the heavy door beside him. The hall of the emergency department smelled anesthetic and a few nurses and others were wandering around. A tired looking woman saw Patrick glancing around the hallway.   
“Are you looking for someone?”   
“Yeah. Peter Wentz. I’d like to see him.”   
“Okay,” said the nurse. “I don’t remember what room he’s in. Follow me and I’ll find out.”   
Patrick followed her to a whiteboard that had the patients in the department written tidily next to the nurse that was attending them.   
“Room 27.”   
“Wait-” said the nurse as Patrick turned to leave.   
“What relation are you to Mr. Wentz?”   
“He’s my-business partner. And my friend. I hope that’s okay.”   
“Yeah, you can see him. He’s not…he’s not too responsive right now. But you can see him. We’re moving him upstairs soon, and you can follow if you want.”   
Patrick thanked her and walked down the hall. Room 30….Room 28…His stomach clenched as he pushed open the wooden door into the room. He let out a long, distressed sigh upon seeing Pete.   
Pete was on the bed, dressed a hospital gown, with his eyes cracked open and rolled back. There were IVs in his arm and a tube down his throat. He looked small and out of place against the sterile looking sheets. His heart rate monitor was chirping next to him and Patrick could see his heartbeat. Forty five beats per minute. Slow but still going.   
Patrick jumped as a small nurse with dark skin and curly hair came up behind him. She smiled.   
“Don’t look so worried. He’ll be alright. We see this a lot-Ativan overdose. We pumped his stomach and gave him some activated charcoal. It’s just a matter of maintaining blood pressure and getting it out of his system.”   
Patrick looked noticeably relieved as the nurse held her stethoscope to Pete’s chest, counting his breaths before leaving.  
He sat on the stool next to Pete’s bed and watched his slow breathing. The room was quiet and still, and Patrick dozed off. A few hours passed until a voice woke him.   
“Hey, Pat, wake up, they’re moving him.”   
He looked up and saw Joe and Andy standing at the foot of Pete’s bed.   
“How long have you been here?” asked Andy in his high pitched, lilting voice.   
“I don’t know, a few hours maybe?”   
Joe smirked and Patrick’s cheeks flushed. He tried to change the subject.   
“So they’re moving him up?” Patrick asked forcefully.   
“Yeah.” said Andy. “They’ll be taking him to the second floor in just a couple minutes.   
Andy was right and after about two minutes two nurses came and moved Pete on to a rolling stretcher. One of the nurses looked up at them.   
“Hey, so we’re taking him up through a staff only elevator and I’m gonna have to have you guys go through the front. See you in a few.”   
The three of them left the emergency room, thanking the woman at the desk as they made their way upstairs. By the time they made it up, Pete was mostly settled into his new room. The three of them sat in silence.   
“I feel like we should have done something earlier,” said Patrick as he stared at his shoes.   
“Yeah, I know, but like...I don’t know that we could have done anything. We knew he was in rough shape, but none of us knew this would happen. Don’t beat yourself up.” said Joe. Andy nodded agreement.   
“I know you take his feelings personally and that you’ve helped him out of tight spots in the past. You couldn’t have stopped it and you shouldn’t let what happened come in between whatever it is that you guys have together.   
Silence swept over the room again. For what seemed like the millionth time, a nurse came to moniter Pete. Just as she adjusted the IV in his arm, he shuddered, letting out a low groan and stirring against her before shuddering and relaxing again.   
A smile crossed Patrick’s face and the nurse looked up pleasantly.   
“Looks like he’s doing a little better! Good thing he was already so healthy!”   
The others agreed with her. Joe looked at his watch.   
“Hey guys. It’s like four in the morning. I don’t think he’s gonna do much more tonight, so I think we should probably get some sleep before tomorrow.”   
Nobody protested and the three men stood to leave. Patrick looked back at Pete’s sleeping figure before he left. He was indescribably happy that Pete was okay-that he had called for help soon enough for the paramedics to come and get him.   
Patrick slept a few hours that night. He woke up with a start though. He immediately remembered what had happened the night before. He got up, dressed, and had a cup of coffee. His mind was racing. He wanted to do something for Pete. Something to show him how much he lov-cared about him. An idea came to his mind. He smiled a little and pulled his guitar off of its stand. He threw the guitar strap over his back and left, shutting off the apartment lights.   
This ride seemed quicker than the one last night. The morning light was grey and watery and the morning traffic moved quickly. Patrick wandered to the medical floor and found Pete’s room.   
He was dozing but stirred when he heard Patrick’s feet against the tile floor. His eyes were shadowed and the IV was still buried in his arm, but he smiled a little when he saw Patrick.   
“Hey. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up this early.”   
Normally Patrick would have just rolled his eyes or said something rude back, but he didn’t have it in him this morning. He was too happy to see Pete alive to be irritated.   
“Yeah...I…”he trailed off.   
Pete looked at the foot of his bed before speaking. He couldn’t meet Patrick’s eyes.   
“Hey. I’m sorry I did this. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys how bad things were. I just…”   
Patrick cut him off.   
“No offense, but shut up. We don’t care. We’re just glad you called Bob and he called the paramedics. And I’m happy you’re getting this stuff figured out. I”m proud of you man.”   
Pete looked up at him and smiled.   
“Thanks. But I’m still sorry. Hey-what’s the guitar for? Gonna try and pick up some hot nurse?”   
“Nah, I thought I would sing for you.” Patrick realized how stupid that sounded just after he said it.   
Pete laughed a little.   
“Fine then. Sing. Better make it good or I’ll rip my IV out.”   
Patrick wasn’t usually nervous for performing, but this time his heart pounded and his palms were sweaty. He perched on the vinyl chair beside the bed. He started strumming a little, trying to think of what to sing for Pete. Pete smiled and leaned against his pillows, eyes closed. He strummed a chord progression and Pete looked up.   
“Hey, no, do that one.”  
“What I...oh, Hallelujah. Okay, then.”   
Patricked picked at the guitar, humming the intro to the song. Pete had always loved Leonard Cohen.   
“I heard there was a secret chord…” he began. Pete relaxed and looked up at Patrick, watching him sing quietly.   
“The baffled king composing hallelujah…” Pete’s voice, rough from the tube in his throat, joined him on the chorus.   
As Patrick started the next verse, he met Pete’s eyes. They were tired looking and rimmed with tears. They stayed this way until the final chorus finished. He set the guitar down awkwardly, suddenly feeling dizzy with nerves.   
“Hey, Pat...that was really good. I hate to ruin the moment, but my neck itches and my tubes don’t reach quite that far. Could you get it?”   
A little laugh escaped Patrick’s lips and he stood up and leaned over Pete’s bed, poking around the back of Pete’ head until he told him he was good. Patrick tried to stand but before he straighten all the way, Pete grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to his face.   
“I’m so so sorry. I’ll get help-I’ll…” Pete pleaded   
“No. Stop.It’s okay. This isn’t your fault. I just...keep me knowing, okay? I hate seeing you and not knowing what you’re thinking and wondering how much you’re hurting. Tell me next time, okay?”   
Pete nodded. He looked confused, then tugged Patrick’s wrist again. Their faces met, and Patrick’s chapped lips snagged on the scruff on Pete’s chin.


End file.
